


Buryin' Ground

by NamelessMonk, vampirekilmer



Category: Halo
Genre: Ballast, Burying Ground, Gen, General Taylor, Master Chief - Freeform, Reach, Reach Glassed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelessMonk/pseuds/NamelessMonk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampirekilmer/pseuds/vampirekilmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate universe set at the beginning of the fall of Reach.  John makes a friend, and keeps a promise, after losing two planets to the Covenant.  Inspired by the song "General Taylor" by Great Big Sea</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buryin' Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of an odd writing style, pay attention to the time stamps at each section.
> 
> "General Taylor"
> 
> Well General Taylor gained the day  
> Walk him along, John, Carry him along  
> Well General Taylor he gained the day  
> Carry him to his bury'n ground
> 
> [Chorus:]
> 
> Tell me way, hey, you stormy  
> Walk him along, John, carry him along  
> Tel me way, hey, you stormy  
> Carry him to his bury'n ground
> 
> We'll dig his grave with a silver spade  
> Walk him along, John, Carry him along  
> His shroud of the finest silk will be made  
> Carry him to his bury'n ground
> 
> [Chorus]
> 
> We'll lower him down on a golden chain  
> Walk him along, John, Carry him along  
> On every inch we'll carve his name  
> Carry him to his bury'n ground
> 
> [Chorus]
> 
> General Taylor he's all the go  
> Walk him along, John, Carry him along  
> He's gone where the stormy winds won't blow  
> Carry him to his bury'n ground
> 
> [Chorus]
> 
> General Taylor he's dead and he's gone  
> Walk him along, John, Carry him along  
> Well General Taylor he's long dead and gone  
> Carry him to his bury'n ground

__**  
**October 10, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
Mission clock 263 hours 18 minutes  
  
    John hoisted the hammer over his head and let gravity augment his own strength.  
     ** _Thoom._**  
    Artificial thunder rolled across the endless plain of glass that used to be the city of New Sigma.  
     ** _Thoom._**  
    The vibration was enough to loosen mortar and crack foundations... if there had been any of those things left. There wasn’t.  
     ** _Thoom._**  
    Whatever was left of New Sigma was encased in half a mile of silica-glass, tempered by the heat of a miniature sun that the Covenant forces unleashed before moving on to the next planet. They’d left this planet broken and ruined, smoldering on a pyre of her own charred bones.  
     ** _Thoom._**  
    Broken, but not dead. Gouts of flame from expanding gasses trapped under the fused surface reached hundreds of feet into the scorched atmosphere. Eerie tones resonated through the glass, modulating with every crack and fissure formed by the Spartan’s hammer-blows. The lines of force within the crystalline structure of the surface, and the dynamic pressure changes from unequal cooling were taking their toll.  
     ** _Thoom._**  
    The ground gave way, and a wide fissure opened within feet of the Master Chief. He rested the gravity hammer on the ground and leaned on it for a moment, then turned to his friend.  
“Looks like this is the end of the road.”  
John carefully slid the simple coffin over the glassy edge into the heart of the planet.

 ** __  
  
**July 14, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
T minus 11 days 3 hours  
  
    “Who the hell are you?”  
    Such an abrupt, nearly hostile, greeting had given the Master Chief pause. He was accustomed to a little more deference, especially from middle aged, balding officers in unpressed uniforms. But it wasn’t a UNSC uniform that draped comfortably over this officer’s shoulders and pulled taught at the waist. Neither was the frayed embroidery of the name “Taylor” placed squarely in the center of his chest as it had been for centuries in the UNSC. This officer’s name was still above the right breast pocket of his fatigues, and a single star on his epaulettes marked him as a general. “Never mind.” the older man growled as he turned his back and walked away. “I know who you are.” he threw a look of frustration over his shoulder and John understood that it wasn’t aimed at him. “I ask for reinforcements to hold my position and I get one goddamned NCO in fucking plate armor. I hope for both our sakes that you’re a knight in shining armor, straight outta yer mammy’s fairy tales, ‘cause otherwise there ain’t gonna be no happy ending.”  
    Master Chief smiled silently as the man stalked across the ad-hoc tarmac, ground crews and pilots alike scattering before him. A few long strides brought John back to the officer’s side. “What’s the situation?”  
    “The situation?” Incredulity colored the general’s voice. “The damn Covies overran Adlow, Corin, and Dagmar within a week of making landfall.” Taylor stiff-armed a set of swinging doors that led into what passed for a terminal and control tower. “I don’t even know what those fuckin’ lizards want Ballast for anyway. There’s nothing here of any military value.” The general led John through a series of conference rooms (John assumed it was a shortcut) and out onto the roads of the main base. The sun had been setting when the Pelican touched down, delivering weapons, supplies, and the Master Chief. Now it was full dark.  
    “By the way,” Taylor stopped short and eyed John shrewdly. “Why’d the feds send _you?_ ” He resumed walking after a moment of silence. “I know who you are, don’t think I don’t.” Then he muttered to himself. “I guess there’s some secret on this old rock that everyone knows but me…”  
    The truth is, the UNSC hadn’t assigned John to Ballast at all. He was technically between missions on R&R. General Taylor’s request for aid had come across Captain Keyes’ desk during a debriefing and...well… there were advantages to being well connected. Keyes had been ordered to send supplies only, but this was not the first time John had smuggled himself out on a zero-disclosure mission. He did this sort of thing from time to time with help from Dr. Halsey or Captain Keyes, bringing much needed help to a situation that the UNSC didn’t consider worth salvaging.  
    “What’s the plan, sir?” John directed the conversation back to the issues at hand.  
    “Well, your guys are heading the defense on the southern coast, where the population density is highest.” General Taylor settled into the familiar vocal cadence of a briefing; he’d given thousands of them over the last forty years. “I’ve got six battalions to defend ten major cities between Sirus and the Atlan mountain range.” As he spoke Cortana was marking the map on John’s HUD. The two men arrived at a portable building with a hand painted sign that read “Quarters.”  
    “Alright chief. I’ve gotta get some sleep, and I suggest you do the same.” The general proceeded into the building and John had to duck to follow. “You’ll find your quarters down the first hall on the right.”  
    “If it’s alright with you, sir,” John said, glancing around at the close walls. “I’ll bunk in the hanger.”  
    Taylor noted how cramped the Spartan looked in a building with an 8’ ceiling and nodded. “Suit yourself. We’ll pick up in the morning and go over the rest. Sleep tight, chief.”  
    “Good night, sir.” Such pleasant formalities might have seemed out of place to a civilian, but when you’ve spent most of your life in combat, as both of these men had, there was comfort in small rituals. John sensed that Taylor needed every ounce of comfort he could get.  
 **  
**  
October 10, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
Mission clock 217 hours 18 minutes  
  
    John was brought before the Prophet of Radiant Light in shackles. The adhoc throne room was long and narrow, lined with guards. Near the entrance were Grunts in loose formation, shifting their squatty frames from foot to foot. Next came Jackals, leering with their energy rifles at the ready. A pair of Elites stood just in front of the dais and occasionally shot malicious looks toward the throne. On either side of the throne stood a Brute, each with the Jiralhanae’s weapon of choice: an improbably large hammer.  
    Voro led John down the gallery to stand before the Prophet. The dwarfed figure of the spiritual leader sat at eye level with John despite the additional height of the dais. Voro bowed respectfully and presented John.  
    “You are well known to us, Demon.” The Prophet’s voice was high and strained, almost manic. “Countless faithful have fallen in your wake. Now you will pay for their blood with your own.”  
    John was expecting a longer tirade, maybe a trip to the homeworld to be ceremonially executed in front of the Great Assembly. He was somewhat caught off guard when the two Brutes immediately stepped forward, snarling in their native language. He spoke less Jiralhanae than Sangheili, but he understood the rough translation to be something along the lines of decorating the mantle with his intestines.  
    “Good luck with that.” John spat out defiantly.  
    The hard-light shackles sputtered and fell to the floor, and the chief’s energy shield hummed to life. The prophet’s pale skin faded to a sickly grey, and fear flitted across faces the whole length of the hall. John lunged forward, stomping on the haft of the beast’s gravity hammer as he tried to raise it, and crushing his throat in a vice-like grip. The Spartan threw his weight backward, and hauled the gasping guard down with him just as the second Brute let his hammer fall. Even blunted by four hundred pounds of Jiralhanae, the shock of the blow made John’s head spin and cracked the stone floor beneath him.  
    “You can’t take another hit like that, Chief!” Cortana’s voice rang in his helmet.  
    John didn’t waste energy replying. He rolled over onto the dead guard in time to throw himself backward again, dodging an Elite’s energy sword by centimeters. The crackling blade came close enough to scramble his heads-up-display for a split second, which was just enough time for the remaining Brute to rain a crushing blow squarely onto John’s chest. The concussion knocked the wind out of him, bent his armor, and probably broke several ribs. But the shockwave also flung the advancing Elites back down the hall, killing the nearest one. John recovered quickly enough to bring to bear the knife he took from the first Brute. A practiced throw buried it in the creature’s throat.  
    John recovered the knife and dispatched the prophet with barely a glance. After a short struggle with the remaining Elite, the Master Chief made short work of the remaining guard. Once the leadership was eliminated, none of the others had had the presence of mind to raise the alarm. John had hoped to climb a little higher up the command structure before bringing out his ace-in-the-hole, but a minor prophet would just have to do this time. He was done here. It was time to finish what he had started and go home.

 ** __  
**July 17, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
T minus 8 days 7 hours  
  
    “Fall back!” Taylor shouted to a line of ground troops who had been holding a position on the outskirts of the city. Most of the population of Eaton Sound had been evacuated. Pelicans, filled to capacity, lifted into the heavy atmosphere while Longswords flew patterns around the transports, trying to draw fire.  
    “Sir,” the Master Chief approached from the general’s left flank. “That’s the last of the transports.”  
    “Is anyone left in the city?”  
    “Yes, sir.” Chief nodded. “There’s about thirty men more than the transports could hold and no time for another run.”  
    “Hmph.” General Taylor stroked his chin. “Do they know the Pelicans aren’t coming back?”  
    “No.” John answered shortly.  
    “Well, it looks like they just joined the militia.”  
    John nodded, and the two of them went to address the new recruits.  
    The last of the population was gathered in a large gymnasium that had been the staging area for the evacuation of the city. Now the large, empty space seemed to absorb both sound and light. The impression John had was of a cavernous tomb in which thirty men could easily be abandoned and forgotten. They weren’t.  
    “Women and children first!” General Taylor’s voice easily carried across the hardwood floors as he and John entered the gymnasium. “That’s the valor you have all shown today, and this is the reward for your valor.” The two soldiers stopped a few meters from the loosely gathered group. “You have given up your city, your families, and your very lives to save the ones you love.” he lowered his head and sighed. “I’m sorry, men. I wish I could tell you we’d be joining them but we won’t. The ugly truth is that there’s still work to be done and you’ve all been volunteered.” The group stirred uncomfortably. “We’ve got trucks, transports, and even a few UNSC Warthogs to carry us and our munitions to Trent.” The general murmur of surprise gave way to angry voices.  
    “What kind of advantage does Trent give us?” One man’s voice rose above the din. “It’s barely a town, no fighting men, no defenses. We can’t harden what’s not there to begin with. Those Covie bastards will roll right over us.”  
    “Ah a strategist...” Taylor turned to address the man, and the others settled in to watch the exchange. Taylor set his foot up on a bench and rested his elbows on his knee. “You’re right, son. They will roll right over Trent whether we’re there or no.” He straightened up and raised his voice. “But if we ride hard, then maybe we can give a few of those poor bastards a chance to escape! The same chance your sacrifice gave to your families. This is it, men, this is the endgame.” The moment of silence was palpable. “There’s nothing else for it; you can die here amid the comforts of home if you want to and no one will hold it against you. But as for me; I plan to make those Covenant scum chase me all the way to New Sigma!”  
    A murmur of assent grew, and a few of the younger men stepped forward awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. John crossed in front of Taylor and set to organizing their new recruits as the protesters faded into resigned compliance. Even hesitant men will follow if a leader will only lead.

 **  
**October 8, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
Mission clock 176 hours 34 minutes  
  
    Voro ‘Yanachee towered above Master Chief, if only because he stood on a raised dais in the shadows of his ad-hoc audience chamber. Voro had been meditating every night for weeks, asking the prophets what he had done to be exiled to this corner of the galaxy while his brothers were fighting and dying gloriously on the human homeworld. Perhaps this was always his destiny, to capture The Demon. He would bring this abomination before the prophets himself, and the glory would be his.  
    “What did you come looking for, Demon?” Master Chief understood enough Sangheili to get by, but Cortana translated the message anyway to ensure the subtleties came through. “Do not lie to me, human. You are too famous a warrior to be wasted on a political maneuver.”  
    “Spartan.” Chief replied.  
    “What?”  
    “Not human, Spartan.” John taunted. The restraints built into the chair were hard light, just like the shackles.  
    “What have the humans discovered on Ballast that would warrant your presence here?” The Covenant general pressed. John was silent. He had no answer that the general would believe.  
    “What brought you here?” the Sangheili shouted. He was becoming more frustrated by the minute, and Chief had plenty of time. They had already tried a dozen methods to remove his armor with no success. Cortana had almost activated his shield when a Zealot approached, intent on using his energy sword as a can opener. But the general had stopped him, reminding the Elite that the prisoner was to remain intact for presentation to the Prophet. This is what John had been waiting for, to find out who was commanding operations on Ballast.  
    When the general and his personal guard left, they left the Master Chief in complete darkness and silence. John had never been afraid of the dark. In the barracks on Reach he would lay awake listening to his conscripted brothers breathing, and try to recognize each silent voice. By the time they were ready to undergo augmentation he could identify more than half of his soldiers by their footsteps on the deck. After augmentation he knew all those who were left alive by heart. He tried to erase the others from his memory, the ones he lost, but his newly enhanced brain would not comply. For weeks after, he would wake from sleep, sweating and breathless, tears in his eyes and the echos of quiet breathing in his ears. He had lost two thirds of his men on that “mission.” To this day it was still his greatest failure.  
    He pushed those thoughts out of his head; there was no sound now but his own breathing. John waited for several minutes to ensure that they were alone before he spoke. “I need to find out where their prophet is before we bust out of here.”  
    “Just... find out where?” Cortana was skeptical.  
    “I can’t kill him until I know where he is.”  
    “Of course.”  
    “You don’t expect me to ignore a target of opportunity like that, do you?”  
    “Last time I checked, Chief, we were being held captive. You may end up with that prisoner of war medal after all.”  
    John grunted. “It’s not always easy to know who’s on which side of the prison bars until the hangman comes.”

 ** __  
**July 20, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
T minus 5 days 11 hours  
  
    William Taylor saw the Covenant assault carrier sink softly through the stratosphere, clouds billowing around it into picturesque swirls. It was such an elegant and peaceful movement in contrast to its purpose. The carrier had to be close in order to glass the city.  
    The speck of light forming at the nose of the carrier was beyond intense, and it burned the scene into Taylor’s retinas even through closed lids. His mind burned with a different sort of fire as he sank to his knees and vomited. The ball of light elongated into a teardrop hanging from the beak of some mythical bird before the directional electromagnetic fields concentrated and directed it toward the center of New Sigma. Tears and snot ran down Taylor’s face as he watched the teardrop pulled into a cylinder. It was agonizingly slow. Deliberate. Inevitable. He was panting as he watched the light crawl across the sky. Oh God, please just let it end. His mind was screaming, but his lungs were empty. Light touched earth, and towers of white flame jetted into the air above the city. He was screaming, but he was empty.  
    “Will,” John’s voice was muffled, echoing in the back of his mind. “Will, we’ve got to move.”  
    General Taylor didn’t remember boarding the Pelican, he didn’t remember the desperate flight through the upper atmosphere, or docking with _Pillar of Autumn._ He had a vague recollection of being shuffled into sickbay, laid on a hard gurney and sedated. By the time he was fully aware of his surroundings, _Pillar of Autumn_ was orbiting Reach.  
    “You should have left me in New Sigma.” Taylor growled when the Master Chief handed him a cup of coffee.  
    “There is no more New Sigma.” John replied simply.  
    “I know…”  
    “I’m sorry I couldn’t save your home, Will.” John rarely used familiar names. “But I’m afraid I couldn’t bring myself to let you burn with it.”  
    “Yeah? So you drag me across the known galaxy, for what?”  
    “Probably just to burn here instead.” John called up a tactical map of Reach with Covenant positions highlighted. “But there’s someone here we might be able to help.” He zoomed close on Sword Base. “And that person might be our best hope of winning this war.”

 **  
**October 7, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
Mission clock 154 hours 15 minutes  
  
    “Movement ahead.” Cortana’s voice broke through John’s reverie. “Four signatures, unknown, 100 meters, 2 o’clock.” A topographic map materialized in the Chief’s HUD and four red blips marked the contacts. They moved in a standard Covie scout formation, probably Jackals. John broke left and sprinted for cover. There was a low hill about fifty feet away that he made for. As long as the patrol was moving toward him he would wait. He lay down just beyond the crest of the rise and watched his HUD until the last scout in the staggered formation came into range. He initiated before they picked him up on their own sensors. He lobbed a frag grenade high into the air and took down two Jackals with two well placed bursts from his BR55. As the shocked scouts activated their energy shields the grenade landed directly behind the furthest enemy and John saw the Jackal’s shield flicker and fade as it reflected force and shrapnel back onto its wielder, shredding him from both sides. The other Jackal made the mistake of spinning around to check on his men leaving his back open. Master Chief wasted no time taking advantage of that mistake and soon it was quiet again on the plain.  
    "They were looking for something." Cortana stated.  
    John grunted in acquiescence. "But were they looking for the ship, or the pilot? Either way that was a damn fast response; they must have a base somewhere nearby."  
    "If they've found the ship, we're likely walking into a trap."  
    "Hmmmm," John was noncommittal. He lined up the nav point and started walking again.  
    "We're still going to the crash site, aren't we?" Cortana's tone was resigned. "Well, at least then we'll know if they were looking for us or it." She tried to sound encouraging.  
    "We need to find the Covenant base. It's probably well hidden, might be underground. You know a faster way to find it?" They walked in silence for what seemed like hours, though Cortana's chronometer only registered forty minutes and thirty-five seconds standard.  
    "Cortana, can you inhibit the systems in my armor?"  
    "What do you mean? Like turn off your HUD, or your shields?"  
    "More like reduce my strength augmentation...say by 75%."  
    "I could..." the AI hesitated. "But why? Couldn't you just pretend?"  
    "Not convincingly." John shook his head. "You should take my shield offline too."  
    "No way." Cortana flat out refused. "One fuel rod charge or lucky plasma grenade and you'd roast. I can't risk losing you." Then hastily she added. "You're far too valuable to ONI now that you're the last..." She immediately regretted her words. "I'm sorry..."  
    "We're approaching the crash site." He interrupted, as much for her sake as his. "Inhibit augmentation and disable shields." Cortana complied. "Restore all functions at keyword: luck."  
    "Confirmed, keyword: luck." _Or if you get in over your head_ , she thought. "How do you know they won't just kill you?"  
    "They have a history of capturing valuable assets. Remember when I asked you to modify our ship's identifier? It should throw up some rather interesting flags when the Covenant check their database." John smiled behind his gold visor.  
    "So we’re high ranking officers?”  
    "No, more like a ghost ship that was decommissioned immediately after manufacture."  
    "But why would the UNSC send ghost operatives to Ballast?" Cortana would have furrowed her brow if she'd had a holoprojecter on hand.  
    "Exactly.” Chief replied. “I'm counting on the Covenant’s curiosity to override their caution.”  
    Master Chief’s hands and feet were bound with hard light shackles, electronically keyed and locked. Without his suit’s augmentation John hadn’t had to pretend to struggle against the three Elites who were laying in wait at the ship. Even so he killed one of them, and nearly tore another’s arm off. Cortana remained silent throughout, even though it killed her to watch him struggle with a couple of chumps that he would usually have taken apart without breaking a sweat.  
    Now they were traveling in a convoy of Ghosts, presumably heading back to the Covenant’s forward base. Cortana picked up some of the conversation that had occurred at the time of their capture and translated it to John’s readout. They knew who he was, the phrases “The Demon,” and “Reclaimer” were thrown about, as well as “I thought he’d be taller,” a joke that the Sangheili had apparently picked up during the long campaign against the humans. If they had any idea of Cortana’s nature or existence they did not show it. The Covenant’s chatter during the short trip indicated that they had already salvaged what munitions were intact from the chief’s ship. Good, John thought, that would save him a trip once he took their base.

 ** __  
**July 24, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
T minus 1 days 2 hours  
  
    “The hell you say ‘that’s our best bet’!” The three day siege had not sweetened Taylor to Dr. Halsey’s plan at all, but he had to admit that they were running out of options.  
    “General Taylor,” Halsey’s tone was not quite condescending. “Our personnel losses have averaged three every twelve hours. If we don’t go now, we won’t have a chance of making it later.”  
    “I still fail to see in your plan where we make it off planet. If we’re abandoning Reach-”  
    “The UNSC is abandoning Reach.” Dr. Halsey said pointedly. “We still have work to do. Sword base is done. There’s nothing left here worth my time, but if I can get to CASTLE base and complete Dr. Sorvad’s latchkey algorithm we may finally be able to translate the Forerunner’s language.” The general gave a noncommittal grunt. “Even if we don’t make it off the planet we might be able to give that key to the navy before communications is shut off.”  
    He understood the stakes, but banking on the enemy's ignorance was not Taylor's idea of sound strategy. On the other hand, what choice did they have? The Covenant had watched them close, and flash-weld, the bay doors, and that did seem to be where their efforts were concentrated. But it seemed like folly of the highest magnitude to assume they wouldn't have noticed a small door only a few meters away.  
    Dr. Halsey had been the one who suggested the plan to begin with. While the general was not in the habit of taking advice from civilians, he had to admit that Halsey had a good mind for tactics, and the solid brass balls to back it up.  
    The door was just wide enough to allow a Warthog through, and Halsey rigged it to set off a directed EMP as soon as it was opened. The rest of the charges that Halsey had set were high explosive, and buried deep in the superstructure. As soon as the short range dead man's switch on the Warthog lost enough signal strength, or if Halsey released the button, the site would be rubble. General Taylor conceded, this was their best bet.  
    "Hitch up your nuts, boys!" Taylor hollered. "This is gonna be a hot run all the way to CASTLE base, and we're not slowing down for stragglers!"  
    Taylor had a brief moment of concern when the EMP triggered and his own displays flickered. He breathed a sigh of relief as the screens came back on, and he stood on the accelerator. He smirked at the infuriated roars of the Elites and Brutes as their vehicles cycled power and restarted. The headstart might not be much, but he hoped it would be enough to get them where they were going. The trip took less than an hour in a Pelican, but that would have required the bay to be cleared. Instead they could look forward to fighting across rivers, valleys, and hillsides all the way to their destination.  
    The first hour of the run was mostly looking over their shoulders and praying that the Covenant didn’t regroup in time to catch up, then the fighting began. The first forays were with a handful of Jackals who had managed to get their Wraiths moving and easily outpaced the UNSC Warthogs. Taylor ordered a fire team to break off and intercept them in the field. With luck he’d see his men later at CASTLE base…  
    Four men and two hogs gone meant the convoy only had three effective fighting groups left who could operate independently, and that likely wouldn’t be enough. If it weren’t for his secret weapon, Taylor would have given up all hope of getting Dr. Halsey to CASTLE. But he still had a trick up his sleeve. He had a Spartan.  
    Jun A266 had been assigned to General Taylor’s outfit to ensure that Dr. Halsey had the best chance of survival. Taylor had seen the speed and effectiveness of the Spartans up close and personal, and that gave him confidence that Jun could deliver Halsey on her own as long as he kept the Covenant off of their backs.  
    “Alright boys and girls, listen up!” Taylor keyed up on the group com channel. “We’re gonna run through what’s left of an old mining operation. The tunnels will take us about half a mile underground before they surface on the other side of that lake.” He sent coordinates and topographical maps to each console and HUD. “That’s gonna give us about three minutes of visual and sensor cover during which Jun is gonna accidently get lost along with our prized possession.” Jun lit her green acknowledgement light, and he knew she understood. “They’re liable to find their way out of some other small access tunnel while we draw the pursuit. We’re gonna run those bastards ‘til they drop, unless they catch us first.” The general’s smile was humorless. “And if they do catch us we’ll scatter and make them spend every golden minute we can before they find out that their quarry has gone to ground.”

 **  
**October 6, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
Mission clock 144 hours 41 minutes  
  
    John groaned and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. "Well that could have gone worse." He stood and knocked dirt and sand from the joints in his armor, reached back for his battle rifle out of habit, and the magnetic retention system released at the touch of his gauntlet. He checked the magazine and the bolt as he started walking in the direction of a pillar of smoke on the horizon.  
    “According to my intel there should be a mid-sized city about five kilometers south of us.” Cortana stated. “But this is old information. There’s been no outgoing communications from Ballast since Admiral Maxwell’s battle group broke off to defend Earth. No one has responded to any communiques since Lt. Colonel Hutchinson’s rather... uh... unorthodox critique of Maxwell’s lineage over the battlecom...”  
    “Hutchinson was left as garrison for Ballast, but I guess the Covenant still had enough ships here to finish the job.” John’s tone was grim. Abandoning a helpless planet to the tender mercies of Covenant Sangheili did not sit well with him. He’d seen how the Elites treated combatants and noncombatants alike.  
    “If the ship’s sensors are still intact we might be able to locate what’s left of the population by power source signatures.” Cortana suggested.  
    John nodded, and kept walking, his eyes sweeping from side to side and occasionally checking behind him for hostiles. It looked to be a long, quiet walk with not a soul in sight.  
    The Master Chief missed the silence of the forest. Not the pseudo-silence that he endured now, but the true silence he remembered from Reach; from before the genetic enhancements rendered every piece of tech within a square mile audible by the hum of electricity through its circuits. He increased his audio gain and listened to the sounds of the wood and grassland. It was as close as he could get to silence these days. Wearing the Mjolnir armor meant that he heard the constant droning of electronics and machinery every waking moment. At least this way he could drown out the noise of his suit with nature’s own noises.  
    He could _feel_ his armor as much as hear it these days. It had become a part of him, and the movement of each joint and flex-point was a harmony to the staccato of weapons fire that so frequently accompanied it. With nothing else of note to think about John noticed bit of hesitation in the armor of his right knee. Range of motion was reduced as well. He’d need to go in for an overhaul when he made it back to Reach... no, Earth. He still hadn’t gotten used to the fact his home world was now under glass. He could sometimes still hear the low, throbbing hum of a plasma stream as wide as the Pelican in which he had escaped Reach when the Covenant glassed it.

 ** __  
**July 25, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
T minus 14 hours  
  
    Taylor was holding CASTLE Base when the Chief arrived to receive the sensitive information that Halsey was extracting from her database. The soldier was not happy to discover that his “reinforcements” were one man, but the sheer force of the onslaught that the Master Chief brought to any melee silenced any objections. They had been holed up for more than 20 hours, regularly turning back wave after wave of Covenant forces. Taylor hadn’t been surprised when the Spartan was recalled to his ship as soon as Dr. Halsey’s algorithm was complete.  
    “No point wasting a good suit of armor on a lost cause like Reach.” the general said.  
    Taylor was quick to clarify when he saw John bristle at the statement. “Oh, don’t go getting offended. I never said Reach isn’t worth fighting for, only that we can’t win.” The Spartan’s rigid posture relaxed a bit. “Actually it’s the height of love and loyalty to fight for a lost cause.” Taylor’s expression softened for a brief moment, then his eyes snapped back into focus and he grumbled. “It may also be the height of stupidity, but I guess it doesn’t really matter now, does it?” His expression turned grim. “Don’t worry, Chief. Y’all left some good men down in the soil on Ballast. If that’s what it comes to here, then you can bet my ghost will haunt the Covenant’s pious asses until their “great journey” ends in a muddy ditch.”  
    “I’ll try to send an ex-fil team as soon as I can.” John said, though they both knew what the chances of that were. For once John regretted not having the right words. Instead he carefully placed a gauntleted hand on Taylor’s shoulder and nodded. That simple gesture would have to do. General Taylor took a slow breath and returned the Spartan’s grip. They understood one another.  
    General Taylor addressed his men. “We’ve been runnin’ and gunnin’ and cheatin’ death for a week, boys.” He recognized some faces from Sword base, some from the landing zone when he first touched down on Reach, a even a few from the ragged band of survivors that rallied to him on Ballast. He hesitated, they didn’t deserve this. “Now there’s a bunch of lizards headed this way, and it’s time to pay the piper!” It may not be very inspiring, but what was there left to say? “So chow down, then gear up, and form up at alpha gate."  
    A short time later the fighters formed ranks behind a large bay door that opened out onto the main approach to the base. Most of them knew that they didn’t have a chance. Some of the younger ones were too full of guts and glory to notice, but Taylor knew that this was a holding action. And if they could hold off the Covenant long enough for Dr. Halsey to get dug in deep under the base in the abandoned titanium mines, then it was probably worth their lives. That was the only way she might survive the glassing.  
    The first artillery round sounded against the bay door with a hollow gong. The door shuddered under the force, but held. General Taylor took a slow, calming breath before palming the control to open the thick blast doors. A rolling field of Grunts and Sangheili stretched out as far as Taylor could see.  
    “Well boys,” he shouted over the din. “Looks like this is the end of the road!”

 **  
**October 6, 2552  
Planet Ballast, Ectanus 45 system  
Mission clock 0 hours 0 minutes  
  
    “Chief?” Cortana’s tone betrayed her uncertainty. “Where are we going?”  
    The fear in her voice was real, John knew. He had learned long ago that being an AI didn’t prevent Cortana from experiencing (and expressing) strong emotions... and stronger opinions. “Ballast.” John was a man of few words.  
    “Uh, Chief, you know they don’t really like us all that much right now.” Worry. “Why should we go back?”  
    “Something I’ve got to do.”  
    “Right... that doesn’t really answer-”  
    “Im keeping a promise, Cortana.”  
    “Those are important.” her voice softened considerably. “Does it have something to do with the... cargo we took on?”  
    Chief was silent.  
    “Look,” Cortana was becoming impatient. “Ballast may have been listed as a victory in the logbook, but it was that kind of victory we can do without. The place is still crawling with Covenant, and half of it was glassed before our last transport broke atmo!”  
    “Glassed.” John muttered after several long seconds, more to himself than to the construct he was arguing with. “I have friends and brothers in glass coffins all over the galaxy.”  
    “But Taylor isn’t under glass.” Cortana broke into his reverie, though she knew it wouldn’t change his mind.  
    “Maybe he should be.” John answered. “A man should have the privilege of dying for his own home. He died for mine, the least I can do is bury him on his.”  
    Silence.  
    “It’s a noble thing.” Cortana said, trying to convince herself. John nodded and remained silent. “How are we supposed to get past the Covenant garrison in orbit?”  
    “Precision slipspace jump over one of the poles. Drop straight through the atmosphere and skim the surface.” John had planned carefully. “Pass over the ruins of New Sigma and launch Taylor straight through the glass to rest.”  
    “Launch?”  
    “I’ve refitted a torpedo to carry him in.”  
    “Then why not launch from space?” Cortana demanded. Entering a hostile atmosphere seemed like a big risk when there were torpedoes accurate enough to nail a grunt from high orbit.  
    "Those kinds of rockets are long and skinny, not enough room to make a casket." Chief explained. _There's enough room for an urn_ , thought Cortana. But she didn't want to push the issue. She knew that John would clam up, and it would be a long six days without someone to talk to. Not that the Spartan talked much anyway.  
    Silence.  
    “So who is doing the calculations for this highly improbable jump anyway?” Cortana was afraid she already knew the answer.  
    “You are, of course.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice. “I figure you’ve been working out new methods for slipspace jumps since Threshold.”  
    He knew her well. She had indeed been integrating new data from her jump with Ascendant Justice, but she was far from confident in her ability to navigate slipspace so close to a planet’s gravity well. “Even with the Covenant’s superior jump tech I’m not sure I can give you the precision you need, Chief.”  
    “We’ll just have to hope that my luck is enough for both of us.” This time there was no amusement in his voice. “I have faith in you.” The AI hoped that his faith wasn’t misplaced as she started translating subspace coordinates into the foreign systems of the Sangheili Stealth Corvette they had salvaged. The debris field left above Earth after the Covenant fleet was finally routed was extensive. With Cortana’s help, it had only taken a day to refit the small ship to be functional again... but functional didn’t mean safe. There were several breaches to the outer hull that they had not been able to patch so they sealed off the bulkheads and hoped for the best. Weapon systems were not even a possibility without time to sort out the energy system the Covenant used. Shields were minimal, probably not enough to stand against high energy beam weapons, much less torpedoes from a capital ship. The only system that was fully functional was navigation, and only because Cortana was wired into it at the moment.  
    An alarm blared, warning of multiple hull breaches, as soon as the corvette re-entered normal space. Master Chief calmly shut off the alarm as Cortana confirmed what he had surmised. “We exited in atmosphere, Chief!” Cortana shouted over the sounds of rushing wind and groaning metal. “The ship can’t handle the strain, she’s breaking up.”  
    John wasted no time pulling Cortana’s crystal from the ship’s console and slipping it into his helmet.  
    “Looks like this is the end of the road.” He kicked out the port side emergency hatch and assessed the “landing” situation. John waited until a wide swath of green broke up the forest canopy that stretched out below. The ship listed to starboard as John climbed out onto the hull. He grabbed the edge of a jagged gash in the ship's outer skin and launched himself over the rolling hulk. He held his arms tight against chest and tried to roll when he hit the ground. Great clods of earth and grass flew up behind him as he shed energy until his slide came to a jarring halt against a rock face and everything went black. This wasn’t going to be as simple as he had hoped.


End file.
